Obsidian

by Lindsey Scholl

  Vancien, keenly aware of the Obsidian army’s proximity, did not want to waste any more time in conversation. “Is that a threat? Look, I don’t know how you got on Thelámos, but if you can state your business, we can get on with ours.”

  The man lifted his gaze even as Vancien heard Hull shout a warning. Then he felt his heart constrict as it had not done since his first experience with the Destrariae. He heard his name, but saw only Amarian as a young boy, stolidly taking a lashing for something he, Vancien, had done. He tried to look away, but other realities crowded in. Some of them he recognized from his past, some from his imagination, and some from his dreams. He felt himself try to embrace Verial, a woman forbidden to him, and felt again the rush of anger at Telenar for stopping him. He became aware that deep down, he was faithless, but that knowledge was no comfort. It was just a trivial admission from a small soul, whose punishment should be the greater for its pettiness.

  The man was still looking at him, but now it was just a look, the same as any man would give. At first Vancien considered blaming him for such horrible visions, but then he realized that the man had only revealed the truth. Vancien could not accuse him of anything; his own shallow failings were too obvious. He felt impure, not because his impurity had increased in that moment, but because he realized that he was in the presence of purity itself.

  He looked around and saw all the Risen Ones kneeling in the rain.

  “My God,” he whispered, sliding to his knees.

  Amarian and the others had watched Vancien go rigid, then fall to the ground. They saw the Risen Ones kneeling in worship. They felt their hearts pricked by something both terrible and delightful as the thought began to occur to them, “Could it be?”

  Then they, too, were on their knees before Kynell, god of the Prysm, the Light of Rhyvelad and the Deliverer of Every Age.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  When Kynell spoke, his voice had the clarity and force of rushing water. He addressed his comments to everyone, and even those at the back of the crowd could hear him. Not everyone could tell at first who he was, and when they did hear the truth, every reaction was different. Several knelt, some tried to push to the front, many stood in shock, and a large handful shook their heads and slipped back into the dark streets, muttering about too many apparitions for one night.

  “People of Lascombe, some of you know me, and it is good to see you!” He emphasized the word “good,” and those nearest him could see that he really meant it. His face was bright with cheer, as if he had just come from a tremendous feast and desired nothing more than to share it with others. Even the weather gave him cause to smile; he held out his hand to the rain in a gesture of invitation and several raindrops obligingly dropped into it. Then he reached out and rested one hand on Amarian’s shoulder and another on Vancien’s.

  “These men—both of them, now—have served me well. I am pleased with them.”

  A couple Risen Ones nodded, as if they had expected Kynell might come for the sole purpose of commending the Advocates. But he wasn’t finished. “The Ages have told you about the time of the Advocates. As you know, it has come many times in the past. It is here now. But now I am going to do something—”

  “He’s not really the Advocate is he?” A slender man in the front interrupted, his finger pointing at Vancien. He was quickly hushed by the men around him, though Kynell had already stopped his speech to glance down.

  “You think that I was lying? Let him go,” he added, as the man began to disappear beneath a pile of scandalized Risen Ones.

  The man returned to his feet. He had a bookish appearance, as if he had just left the library to fight a war. “I just don’t understand it. I have scarcely even heard of, of—what’s your name, young man?”

  “Vancien pa Hull,” Vancien supplied.

  “Vancien. Now I know that Lord Corfe has been with us for a while and of course, he’s a good man. He follows you, after all, although I wonder who you really are. I have read the passages that talk about the Advocates, and it seems clear that a man with his dramatic story could serve in the role. Like I said, I have never heard of that one.” He pointed again at Vancien.

  The crowd watched the god of the Prysm, wondering if the rude fellow would be struck by lightning or vanish in a mist.

  “What’s your name?” Kynell finally asked.

  The man grinned. “You know that as well as I do.”

  “I do. Your name is Clive.”

  “Earnest. Clive Earnest. With an emphasis on that last syllable, as you also know. It’s because of my Ulanese heritage.”

  Vancien couldn’t help rolling his eyes. The man was not only rude, but a bore.

  But Kynell had fixed his gaze on him. “Clive Earnest, you are acting like a fool. And you have left your son at home. Why hasn’t he been evacuated with the other children?”

  Clive fidgeted. “He’s very weak, as you know. A serious cough. The dampness of the tunnels…I fear it would do him in. But I’ve placed him in a safe location.” His voice wavered, as if he would like to be more certain of the boy’s safety. “I didn’t have a choice.”

  Kynell dismounted the steps to stand in front of him. “Go to your son,” he said, speaking so Clive and those around him could hear. “He is well. Take him into the tunnels and stay there with him. And go without shame.”

  Clive’s eyes lit up. He stared at Kynell for a moment, as if not comprehending what he had heard, then he turned and began pushing his way through the crowd, which tried its best to let him through. Those who could see him as he broke free later said that they had never seen a man move so quickly as did Clive Earnest.

  Kynell hurried up the stairs to face the crowd. He clapped his hands again on Vancien and Amarian. “These two have served me well,” he repeated, and his voice clapped like thunder. “But they are no longer my Advocates. I will be your Advocate now.”

  __________

  The dawn brought a reprieve from the rain. But it also brought a dim shadow on the horizon. Obsidian’s army had arrived. The watchers on the walls tried not to sound panicked as they shared what they saw, but panic was inevitable. Telenar made no attempt to hide it.

  “They’re here! What in the Chasm are they doing here? They’re not supposed to be here until the afternoon!” He was standing with Chiyo on the eastern wall, gripping a range glass in his hand. Chiyo was staring in shock. Both men had woken up from a very short night’s sleep just minutes before. For a moment, they had both forgotten what Telenar had seen personally and what Chiyo had learned from witnesses: Kynell himself was in the city.

  “So what do we do?” Telenar asked, beginning to pace. “They’re already here! What can we do?”

  Chiyo watched his friend slosh through the puddles that had gathered on the battlements. Despite their grim situation, he couldn’t help but smile. Telenar was a great priest, but no soldier. His temper was too volatile.

  “If what you say is true, Kynell is here with us. I wish I could be with him…” his voice trailed off.

  Telenar ran a hand over his spectacles. What right had he to panic when the god of the Prysm was here among them? He looked down at the men who were soaking the buildings in the hopes of preventing fiery missiles from doing too much damage. He could see Kynell in the street below, his sleeves rolled up, taking a bucket in his turn and heaving its contents on exposed timbers. Telenar’s mind still reeled. If asked earlier what would be the effect of the Prysm god on common men, Telenar would have said they would be so awestruck as to be immobile—useless for anything but worship. But he saw instead that Kynell invigorated everyone around him. Instead of falling on their faces, they went to their task with renewed energy. He even heard laughter drifting up into the gray sky.

  “Does he know, do you think?” Chiyo asked, following his gaze.

  “He must. The question is, should we wait for him to say anything or go on with the plans we’ve already laid out?”

  “If I send a messenger to ask him, he will only jo
in the soaking crew. I’ve already lost two men this morning. Let’s tell the Risen Ones and the generals, though I’m guessing they already know.”

  After his conversation with Telenar, Chiyo went about his duties like a machine. When he had heard the news of Kynell’s arrival the night before, he had sent a messenger (the only messenger who returned) to offer the Prysm god command of the city. The messenger had this statement to relay: “Keep to your post. I did not come to command.” And so Chiyo, after wisely getting a few hours’ rest, continued in his task, not taking time out even to see Kynell in person, as many of his men had done.

  The women, children, and elderly had completed their evacuation a few hours before dawn, despite the stir caused by Kynell’s arrival. It was only at his urging that they reluctantly left him to descend into the dark labyrinth beneath the city. All of the access points into the tunnels had been sealed shut, guarded on the inside by the women Risen Ones. The people who now remained in the city were those men, women, and Sentries who were determined to give their lives to protect it.

  Construction crews were called back from the extramural defenses, and all soldiers were ordered to their posts. Teams were soon appointed to man the siege weapons mounted at intervals along the eastern wall. The few Risen Ones who were trained in siege warfare were paired with living soldiers to conduct that aspect of the defense. Fortunately, they still had time; the stillness of the enemy’s weapons meant that the advancing army was yet out of range—something most trained eyes were already able to tell. The rest of the Risen Ones were gathered at points throughout the city, by the entrances and possible breach spots, ready to ride out in sorties or stymie the attackers if they should penetrate the walls. Final weapons checks were conducted as every soldier was equipped with a blade of some sort, even if it was a sharpened pitchfork.

  A few hours after dawn, most of the soldiers, both living and Risen, stood soberly at their stations. Kynell, despite earnest requests from almost every individual in the city to be at their side, remained with the soakers, buckets at ready. His presence had given the defenders new life, but several also noticed that he had offered no promises of deliverance, nor had he chosen to manifest himself everywhere at once, as he surely could have done. He meant for the battle to proceed, leaving a few to wonder why he had bothered coming at all.

  By noon the shadow was a dark, writhing mass. Massive siege weapons towered above it like bony jail-keepers. The wooden frames of trebuchets were just discernible, along with the bulky siege towers. The catapults and ballistae were not visible, but lurked behind the advance guard. As the evil vision drew closer, it was accompanied by a horrible clamor. It took a moment for the Lascombians to realize that what they were hearing was not the distant clanking of armor or even weapons; rather, it was the tortured, furious cries of the Chasmites. The sound was constant, like an agonized drone, chilling the hearts of the defenders.

  As the third orb peaked in the sky, the air was marred by the sound of a whistle. The garrison on the East Wall had just enough time to duck as a small boulder went soaring over their heads and crashed into the houses below. It was immediately followed by several others. The army of Zyreio had come into range. The battle had begun.

  __________

  Gair rode his voyoté hard, despite Verial’s added weight. A few days after the encounter with the children on the road, they came across the remains of a wooded copse. They were not too far from Lascombe now; if his own sense of direction had not told him that, the shattered remnants of the tree trunks did. The army must have stopped to construct its engines. From the look of the raw wood and torn-up ground, they had been gone from the spot a few days at most. He was just about to spur his voyoté forward again when he heard a thoughtful harrumph from Ragger.

  “What is it?”

  The munkke-trophe was looking in the direction of the city. “I wonder, Captain, if we are doing the wisest thing?”

  Even Verial was surprised by his question. “What else could we do?”

  Ragger pursed his lips. “If we somehow make it past the attackers and into the city, what then? We join Lord Corfe and fight to the death, no doubt. But if we remain outside the walls, behind the Easterners, perhaps we could be more effective?”

  Gair shifted in his saddle. “In what way? We don’t know how to fight against them.”

  “You point out a weakness, sir. Also, we are very few, and they are very many. But if we go inside the walls, we become just two more soldiers—and a lady—with no tactical advantage. Out here, we may at least have the element of surprise.”

  He had a point. Gair stared at the ground, mulling it over. Once they went inside—if they could make it inside—they would lose whatever small advantage they had. Yet it was a distinct possibility that they could somehow be of better service to Kynell and Corfe outside the city. But that meant more watching and waiting and less fighting, which annoyed him greatly.

  From behind him, he could tell Verial was dealing with a similar struggle. “So we raced all this way just to stare at the backs of those fiends?”

  He held up a hand. “Shh. I’m thinking.”

  She repositioned herself and, in the process, her slender arm tightened around his waist. The ordinary movement reminded him instantly of how attractive she was; thoughts of war dissipated with ludicrous speed as he was overcome with the urge to take her hand in his. Then he recalled what she would have done with that innocent child and his passion cooled. He wanted no relationship with such a woman.

  A few minutes passed as everyone sat absorbed in their own thoughts. The voyoté whined, more than ready for a rest. Gair patted his mount absentmindedly.

  “Just a little longer, girl. Bring us within sight of the army and we’ll let you rest.”

  It sounded like the beginning of a plan, so they moved forward.

  __________

  “By the Chasm, what happened here?”

  Lucio whistled as he surveyed the torn tree stumps, the scattered branches, and the dirt crisscrossed with deep ruts. “Looks like something exploded…ah, wait. Maybe this is what I think it is.”

  “What? What are you going on about?”

  “Sirin made me hear about all these old battles. In a couple of ‘em, they would build huge towers and catapults and things so they could tear up the walls of the cities they were attacking. I bet most armies don’t carry that much lumber around. Looks like this is where they got it from.”

  Teehma was impressed. Lucio had listened to his teacher.

  “That means we must be getting close.”

  Lucio nodded. “Maybe a couple days’ walk.”

  Teehma shuddered. She wasn’t anxious to encounter that horrible army again. And once they got there, what would they do? Would they be able to creep into the city? Her stomach rumbled. The food the soldier had given them seemed like a distant memory.

  “I wonder how Trint and Ester are doing.”

  “Hopefully better than us,” Lucio responded as he picked his way through the wood. “Not that that would take much.” He would never admit it, but he was kicking himself for leaving Sirin’s and angry at Teehma for letting him do it. But how could they have known? Nobody had been running around shouting that an army was coming to town.

  “I wish we were older,” Teehma said to the ground, “then we’d know what to do.”

  Her sentiment angered Lucio, though the idea had occurred to him as well. “You think the adults know how to fix this? How could a someone like Gorvy take on an army like that?”

  She had to admit that Gorvy would stand no chance. But when she remembered that young man who wanted to help them find a home, she thought that maybe the adults might know what they’re doing, after all. At least, she hoped that was the case.

  By the end of the day, they had moved past the torn remains of the woods. The twilight was coming fast, and although the autore season was upon them, the nights could still get very cool. Along the road, they had collected extra scraps and garments to kee
p them warm. They wrapped these around themselves as they staggered on.

  “So do we have a plan?” Teehma asked in a whisper. It was probably unnecessary to lower her voice, but she didn’t want to take any chances.

  “Find Trint and Ester.”

  “Yeah, but how are we going to get into the city?”

  “I don’t know. I…”

  He stopped as a movement caught his eyes. There was something just off the road ahead of them, moving in their direction. The three lunos gave them only enough light to see that it was about their height and moving in a heavy lope. They crouched down and began to crawl into the ditch on their right. But the figure noticed them and switched its direction. Before they could retreat, it was upon them.

  It was Sirin.

  “There you are!” he shrieked. He looked tired, his clothes were disheveled, and his eyes had a wild look. They couldn’t tell if he was angry or triumphant, but their own surprise was so great at seeing him that they could only stare.

  “Well, what have you got to say for yourselves?” He tapped his cane impatiently on the ground.

  Teehma found her tongue first. “Uh…what are you doing here?”

  Her words failed to satisfy him. “What am I doing here? Well, that’s a fine question. I might ask the same of you. Why are you wandering around in the dark? And where have you been these past days?”

  “We ran away,” Lucio replied stoutly. “Since Trint an’ Ester found a home, we didn’t figure we’d be good for much more than slave work, anyway. Why did you follow us?”

  Teehma hissed a warning at him under her breath; the stupid boy was going to turn away their only hope of food. Sirin, however, did not seem as offended as he might be. In fact, he looked sympathetic, which everyone knows is an unusual attitude for a munkke-trophe.

  “You misunderstood, child. When young Vancien places charges under my care, then I mean to take care of them. I’ve been searching all over Lascombe for you. Only late last night did I hear from some irresponsible guard that he had let you out of the city. Do you know what I went through to get past that horrible army? Do you? Well, don’t ask.”